


Sick

by Itsnot_a_phasemum



Series: Eddsworld Oneshots [3]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Like, M/M, REAL ANGSTY, TordTom, angsty, ehhh I don't really like this??, there is noncon but nothing that explicit, tomtord - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-02-13 12:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsnot_a_phasemum/pseuds/Itsnot_a_phasemum
Summary: Tom lives in a toxic world but he's too tired to try and escape anymore





	Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh i lowkey highkey hate this

He is so sick of this. 

He is so sick of waking up in the morning with a hangover, his body littered with bite marks and hickeys. So sick of his body aching as he trudges downstairs, not even bothering to see how much of a wreck he is in the mirror. Sick of finding a hastily scribbled note from Tord with stupid excuses about how he has to go out for the day, and won’t be back until well past midnight. Tom’s almost glad he’s gone. 

He manages pretty well while Tord’s gone. And by pretty well, it involves taking painkillers to dull his raging headache, starting to drink even more barely hours after the pain subsides, lying in bed and trying to sleep through the whole day. Susan leaning against the wall, gathering dust over time. He can’t seem to do anything these days. 

He’s sick of hearing Tord fumbling for his keys and stepping inside their apartment, his steps uneven as the man half stumbles to Tom’s room. He’s tried locking the door before. Never again. He may have a death wish, but he is not going through his lover’s drunken rage again. 

He’s so sick and tired of slowly getting up and watching Tord walk into his room, not even bothering to tell him to leave by now. Why even ask, when he won’t listen? He hates it when the man clambers onto the bed, smirking above him with a condescending sneer. He doesn’t mention how Tord reeks of cheap perfume that surely doesn’t belong to either of them. Let him see other girls if he wants. Let him fuck other people if Tord’s so bored with Tom. See if he cares. He’s sick of the man’s fucking excuses. 

 

He just gives up. He lets Tord lean down and kiss his neck, scraping his teeth along Tom’s neck, purring his name as his breath ghosts against the other’s skin. He lets Tord do as he pleases to Tom’s body, even when he’s getting a bit too rough and Tom instinctively hisses in pain. He’s used to it. At this point, he’s more disgusted with himself than at Tord. 

“Tell me you love me. Tell me you belong to me and me only.” he hears Tord rasp above him, his hands freely roaming over Tom, marking him, making him Tord’s. Using him like he was just an object. It used to feel good when Tord touched him. Back when they actually spent time together sober, laughing like the idiots they were as they bickered about stupid, childish shit on the couch. Arguing then ending up making out heavily against the wall, breaking out in rapturous laughter after realising how retarded it was to get worked over something so minor. The good times are gone. 

Tom doesn’t reply, his mouth firmly shut as he looks at anywhere but Tord, his expression blank. God, he hates Tord so much. He hates Tord. He hates himself. He hates everyone. 

He stays silent- mostly. He can’t help the noises he makes when the man brushes against a particularly sensitive spot, shaking in disgust and pleasure. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing Tord out of his mind. Pretending that this is back when they actually loved each other. Pretending that this is the old Tord who wants to make them both feel good, who treats Tom like an absolute queen and murmurs sweet nothings against the Brit’s ear as he makes love to him in every sense. Words can’t possibly explain how much Tom misses those times.

He snaps back to reality as he feels a particularly hard thrust, involuntarily groaning. As much as he detests this, he can’t stop the sensation of heat pooling in his stomach. 

It’s anything but pleasant when they both finish. Tom barely feels Tord sloppily kiss him, panting as he pulls back.

Tom hates Tord so much. He hates how he leaves early in the morning, only to come back late at night and have his way with him, reeking of alcohol and countless other people that he probably fucked. He hates Tord’s wicked words and tipsy topsy slurs. He absolutely hates how he can’t bring himself to just pack his things and leave the motherfucker. 

He hates how deep in his mind, there’s an inkling of hope that Tord will change and go back to loving him again. 

He hates how after some nights, Tord is next to him, sober enough to wrap his arms around the man and whispers about how sorry he is, how disgusting he is, how he hates himself so much. Whispering about how much he loves Tom and how he should just leave Tord and find someone who won’t treat the man this way. He hates how much those words affect him, making Tom often tear up and start babbling about how he forgives Tord, begging him to stay and love him. Maybe it’s because he’s such a mess. He’s such a mess that he might go mad without the man he hates the most. He hates how after all Tord has done to him, after he reduced the Brit into a heap of depression and self-hatred, he loves him. He's terrified of him, but he loves him.

Despite all that, Tom loves him so much. He hates him but he loves him so much. 

But all he wants to do now is cry to sleep.

And he does just that.

 

The next morning, the cycle continues.

 

Tom ends up drinking much more than yesterday.

**Author's Note:**

> i only write tomtord for the hits
> 
> jokes I don't mind the ship lma o,,


End file.
